Midsummer, Was It, When They Died, di Emily Dickinson

Midsummer, Was It, When They Died

962

Midsummer, was it, when They died—

A full, and perfect time—

The Summer closed upon itself

In Consummated Bloom—

The Corn, her furthest kernel filled

Before the coming Flail—

When These—leaned unto Perfectness—

Through Haze of Burial—

To the bright east she flies, Brothers of Paradise Remit her home, Without a change of wings, Or Love’s convenient things,

462 Why make it doubt — it hurts it so… So sick — to guess — So strong — to know — So brave — upon its little Bed

356 The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days— Until the Coronation came— And then—'twas Otherwise—

The Face we choose to miss - Be it but for a Day As absent as a Hundred Years, When it has rode away.

353 A happy lip—breaks sudden— It doesn’t state you how It contemplated—smiling— Just consummated—now—

147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!

271 A solemn thing—it was—I said— A woman—white—to be— And wear—if God should count me f… Her blameless mystery—

703 Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird—reach it! Curve by Curve—Sweep by Sweep— Round the Steep Air—

308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—

809 Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality, Nay, it is Deity— Unable they that love—to die

916 His Feet are shod with Gauze— His Helmet, is of Gold, His Breast, a Single Onyx With Chrysophrase, inlaid.

679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—

552 An ignorance a Sunset Confer upon the Eye— Of Territory—Color— Circumference&mda sh;Decay—

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

432 Do People moulder equally, They bury, in the Grave? I do believe a Species As positively live